A Tunt Thanksgiving
by Red Witch
Summary: Cheryl remembers a Thanksgiving when she wasn't the one who caused the most drama. Or damage.


**A turkey has made off with the disclaimer telling you all that I don't own any Archer characters. This is my version of a certain infamous Thanksgiving that was mentioned a few years ago. Enjoy this new holiday classic…**

 **A Tunt Thanksgiving**

Our story begins many years ago in New York City (Yes, I know I can just say New York!) It was Thanksgiving morning at a certain manor.

In an elaborate parlor were four people. Three of them were members of the Tunt family. The fourth was the family's faithful English butler, Heathcliff. Heathcliff was a stout, grey haired butler currently pouring the family bourbon into their glasses.

Mr. Tunt, a grey-haired man with a grey beard wearing a white suit was reading the paper. "Pork prices went down again," He remarked. "I bet a lot of people went belly up on that trade."

Mrs. Tunt, a middle-aged woman in an elegant dress and expertly coiffed dark red hair daintily sipped from her drink. "Darling you know how I feel about all that dreadful stock talk. It's not appropriate for morning family time."

Cheryl Tunt, who was wearing a conservative green dress and drinking from her glass looked at her mother. "You mean Just Sitting Around Drinking Bourbon Time?"

"Cheryl, must you say things that you think of instead of simply being **quiet**?" Mrs. Tunt sighed.

"Speaking of lack of quiet," Mr. Tunt put down the paper. "Heathcliff, I heard the most awful row this morning. Can you explain that?"

"I'm afraid Sir there has been another incident in the conservatory," Heathcliff told Mr. Tunt.

"Who got killed and how this time?" Mr. Tunt sighed.

"The new chambermaid," Heathcliff explained. "I'm afraid she ignored my explicit instructions about exploring the gardens alone."

"So, it was a case of curiosity killing the cat?" Mrs. Tunt asked.

"More like a giant Venus Flytrap eating Miss Fickleton," Heathcliff explained.

"Shame," Mr. Tunt frowned. "I rather liked her. I was hoping to get to know her better."

"I **bet** you were," Cheryl snickered. "Bow chicka, wow, wow!"

"Cheryl!" Mrs. Tunt chastised. "What sort of language **is that?** And I mean literally…I don't recognize those words."

"It's just some slang I picked up at work," Cheryl waved.

"Why you insist on working I will never understand," Mrs. Tunt sighed as she took a drink. "Can't you just do some charity work like your cousins?"

"Dear God no," Mr. Tunt was scandalized. "Have our daughter waste her life on frivolous causes like saving some dogs, raising money for sick people or helping the poor? I think not!"

"Yeah Mother," Cheryl said. "Who do I look like? Cecil?"

"It's bad enough the boy has taken these foolish notions into his head," Mr. Tunt looked at the paper. "I won't let this sort of madness infect our dear Cheryl."

"Especially when she seems to have her own brand of madness," Mrs. Tunt sniffed.

Cheryl made a face when she was sure no one was looking. She then tried to sneak something to her nose but Heathcliff saw. And intercepted.

"Hey!" Cheryl snapped as Heathcliff grabbed the small object. "Give it back!"

"Oh, what now?" Mrs. Tunt sighed. "Is she doing it again?"

"Another small vial of what appears to be glue Ma'am," Heathcliff examined it. "I will dispose of it."

"Can't you just take pills like a normal girl?" Mrs. Tunt sighed.

"On the other hand," Mr. Tunt shrugged. "It is cost efficient."

"Cost be damned," Mrs. Tunt said indignantly. "I'd rather Cheryl snort cocaine than the world knows that she's a glue sniffer! It's so childish!"

"Well you wouldn't know if you didn't have Horrible Heathcliff to spy on me!" Cheryl snapped.

"Ms. Tunt you must learn to act like a lady of her station," Heathcliff said as he disposed of the vial in a small wastebasket. "That is my duty."

"It's a stupid duty!" Cheryl grumbled. "Duty head!"

"Cheryl…" Mrs. Tunt warned.

"Why can't I get my own place like Cecil does?" Cheryl pouted.

"Because Cecil is a young man and you are a girl," Mr. Tunt told her.

"It's not proper for a young lady of your breeding to live on your own," Mrs. Tunt agreed. "You will live here with us until you are married. Then your husband can take care of you. Until then we will look after you. To make sure you don't end up like Aunt Charlotte."

"How did she end up again?" Cheryl asked. "Nobody told me what she did or what happened."

"You don't need to know," Mrs. Tunt waved.

"Kind of think I should," Cheryl said. "So that I would know what she did and I would know what **not** to do. Because if I didn't know what not to do the odds are pretty good I'd do it. So I need to know so that I wouldn't do what I don't know. You know?"

"God only knows what you would do if left to your own devices," Mrs. Tunt ignored her. "I realize that your Tunt blood gives you some high spirits but they must remain checked for your own good. And the good reputation of this family."

"Don't fear Madame," Heathcliff told her. "As long as I live your daughter will be looked after and live a chaste, sensible sober life."

"Well not **too sober** ," Mrs. Tunt said. "We don't want her ending up like one of **those** people!"

"Of course, Ma'am…" Heathcliff nodded. He then gave Cheryl a look.

"God, I hope you die soon," Cheryl grumbled.

"Cheryl if you really want to relax just have alcohol like a normal person," Mrs. Tunt sniffed. "And stop slouching!"

"I am not slouching," Cheryl muttered as she straightened up.

"I knew something like this would happen," Mrs. Tunt looked at her husband. "The day she decided on this silly working nonsense."

"Mother we've been **over this!"** Cheryl grumbled.

"Have you completely forgotten that you are not only a Tunt," Mrs. Tunt said. "The blood of the Gimbles, Von Hambletons and half the well-bred families in this state run through your veins? If people found out that you…A Tunt was working as a…What exactly do you do again?"

"I'm a secretary," Cheryl said as Heathcliff poured her drinks.

"A _secretary,_ " Mrs. Tunt gasped. "A **secretary**. A Tunt working as **a secretary**! The scandal it would cause…"

"Oh my God Mother," Cheryl rolled her eyes. "I gave them a fake name and everything. I'm not stupid! It's kind of an undercover thing."

"Good girl," Mr. Tunt nodded. "Learning how to run the business from the bottom up. That's what I did back in the day."

"It's disgraceful," Mrs. Tunt sniffed. "A girl of her breeding…" She ignored the fact that Cheryl was knocking back bourbon like it was lemonade.

"Dear before you can run a company, you need to know **how** it runs," Mr. Tunt explained.

"Or in this dump's case, crawls," Cheryl snickered.

"Working is good for a Tunt," Mr. Tunt said. "Builds character. At least **one** of my children isn't wasting her life lazing about and doing ridiculous good deeds all day."

"But a **secretary** …" Mrs. Tunt pouted.

Mr. Tunt went on. "I started out as a stock boy. My brother ran a mailroom. My other brother tended bar at one of our hotels. And my other-other brother started out as a cabbage salesman. Before he figured out that wasn't really a thing."

"And your sister was a whore before she opened that brothel," Mrs. Tunt quipped.

"Escort service," Mr. Tunt groaned. "And technically she didn't work there. Besides she doesn't count. You know I don't like to talk about her."

"Yeah whatever happened to Aunt Charlotte?" Cheryl spoke up. "I never really got the whole story. Is she dead or just disgraced…?"

"Oh, who remembers?" Mr. Tunt waved. "The point is Cheryl is following in the footsteps of all great Tunt businessmen. And Cousin Irving."

"Hopefully she won't end up like Cousin Irving," Mrs. Tunt sighed.

"I might end up buying up the company anyway," Cheryl added. "Or burn it to the ground. If my boss or her stupid son don't do it first."

"See?" Mr. Tunt said. "At least our daughter is **trying** to learn how to be a proper Tunt. Unlike that idiot boy of ours."

"What did he do **now?** " Mrs. Tunt sighed.

"Besides Tiffy?" Cheryl giggled before she took a drink. "Oh God how I hate her."

"You're not the only one," Mrs. Tunt stiffened before she took another drink. "What the devil does your brother see in her? It can't be her breasts. You'd need a magnifying glass to see those."

"I admit I'm stumped as well," Mr. Tunt groaned. "Of all the fine eligible ladies Cecil could align himself with, he chooses to associate with that hippie commoner."

"Maybe he's getting back at you for trying to set him up with Delilah Delamont-Dane?" Cheryl asked.

"How long is he going to hold a grudge against me for **that?** " Mrs. Tunt snapped. "She was well bred. Wealthy. Beautiful."

"Completely insane," Mr. Tunt looked at her.

"Well how was I supposed to know **that?"** Mrs. Tunt snapped. "She hid it well. Up until the Spring Cotillion. Where she took off all her clothes, claimed she was going to marry herself and bit one of the chaperones."

"I remember that night. She was also going on and on about this boy she was seeing who dumped her," Mr. Tunt added. "What was the name again? Right. Sterling Archer. Have you ever heard of a Sterling Archer?"

Cheryl paused. "Never heard of him."

"Well whoever he was I hope for his sake Delilah's family never runs into him," Mrs. Tunt sniffed. "Mrs. Delamont-Dane was on the warpath. And then eventually to a spa treating a nervous breakdown when her daughter ran off to join a lesbian commune somewhere."

"In hindsight my dear," Mr. Tunt sighed. "She was a rather poor choice of a date for our son."

"Not half as bad as Rosalyn Rosemane-Richards-Reynard," Cheryl added. "How could you keep pushing her at Cecil when he hated her?"

"Rosalyn was a decent girl with a good background," Mrs. Tunt said. "And hips wide enough to give me a dozen grandchildren. I can't believe Cecil openly defied me and wouldn't take her out on even **one date**!"

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to side with the boy on this one," Mr. Tunt sighed. "Our family has enough eccentricities without adding to them. And Rosalyn would have added more than her share."

"Yeah she was a real freak show," Cheryl giggled. "Who has an affair with their **brother?** Besides Cousin Irving."

"I never liked her either," Mr. Tunt added. "She's related to the Roosevelts. And you know how I feel about **those people**!"

He stormed over to the window and opened it up. "ROOSEVELTS!" He screamed out the window. "YOU FREAKS! FREAKS! THE ROOSEVELTS ARE FREAKS! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU ALL SO MUCH!"

Mr. Tunt closed the window. "Those people have absolutely no class."

The doorbell rang. "Speaking of which…" Cheryl quipped. "Here comes Tiffy…"

"Low class tart," Mrs. Tunt hissed. "Should be in the gutter with the rest of the trash."

"Be civil," Mr. Tunt warned. "It's probably just a phase. The less attention we pay to it, the sooner Cecil will come to his senses and dump her!"

"Cecil coming to his **senses**?" Cheryl scoffed. "I doubt it!"

"God I can't wait until you're married off," Mrs. Tunt glared at her daughter.

"Neither can I!" Cheryl glared at her mother.

"Greetings Mother! Father!" Cecil walked in with Tiffy wearing nice clothes. Cecil was carrying flowers. "Cheryl. Heathcliff!"

"Master Tunt," Heathcliff greeted. "And Master Tunt's…companion."

"You know my name is Tiffy, you old ghoul," Tiffy glared at him. "Hello Mr. Tunt. Mrs. Tunt."

"I brought you flowers, Mother!" Cecil handed them to her.

"Oh look," Mrs. Tunt sighed as she handed them to Heathcliff. "You didn't bring wine. No matter. It's not like social protocol demands you bring wine."

"I brought flowers," Cecil said as Heathcliff put the flowers in a vase.

"We can't drink flowers Cecil!" Cheryl told him.

"Your sister's right," Mr. Tunt agreed.

"Nice to see those lessons on manners and social protocols didn't **completely** go to **waste,** " Mrs. Tunt said bitterly.

"Meaning they totally did," Cheryl smirked.

"Cheryl," Tiffy stiffened. "Nice to see you off your back for the weekend."

Mrs. Tunt blinked. "What exactly is a week- **end?** "

"The last few days of a week," Tiffy looked at her. "Where most people have days off. And some people who work on Sunday get time and a half."

"I don't understand the concept," Mrs. Tunt sniffed. "And I refuse to learn it."

"That reminds me," Cheryl grinned at Heathcliff. "Heathcliff. It's time Babou had his pills."

"Technically Ms. Tunt my job is…" Heathcliff grimaced.

"Your job is to do whatever one of us says it is!" Cheryl spoke up. "Right Father?"

"She does have a point," Mr. Tunt remarked.

"But who will pour your drinks?" Heathcliff asked.

"I think we can rough it for a few minutes," Mr. Tunt waved. "Off you go Heathcliff."

"Very good sir," Heathcliff sighed. He glared at Cheryl and went to another room.

"Who's Babou?" Tiffy asked.

"My pet ocelot," Cheryl told her.

"RRARRRRRRRRRR!" Babou was heard yowling.

"DOWN BABOU!" Heathcliff shouted. "NO! NO! DOWN! DOWN I SAY!"

"RARRRRR!"

"Why did you get an ocelot?" Cecil asked.

"Why **wouldn't** I get an ocelot?" Cheryl asked.

"RARRRR!"

"DOWN! DOWN! I SAY!" Heathcliff shouted. "OWWWWW!"

"Stocks are doing well Cecil," Mr. Tunt said. "Our profit revenues are up."

"Oh Father," Cecil said. "You know I have no head for figures."

"That's obvious," Cheryl scoffed. "Just look at Tiffy."

"OWWWW!" Heathcliff screamed.

"You know…?" Tiffy looked at Cheryl.

"More than you," Cheryl quipped.

Mrs. Tunt made a slight chuckle at that. "Good one."

"AAAAHHH!" Heathcliff screamed.

"It would do you good to spend more time in the boardroom, Cecil," Mr. Tunt said.

"And less time in Tiffy's bedroom," Cheryl added.

"Hear, hear," Mr. Tunt agreed.

"OWWW! MY EAR!" Heathcliff yelled in pain.

"Father I like doing charitable work," Cecil said.

"Charity begins at home," Mr. Tunt lectured his son. "You can't go around helping the world if you don't know what's going on in your own house!"

"YEWOWWWW!" Heathcliff screamed. "OH GOD I THINK IT TORE AN ARTERY!"

"What is taking Heathcliff so long?" Mrs. Tunt sighed as she poured her own drink.

"Shame you actually have to pour **your own drinks** ," Tiffy looked at Mrs. Tunt. "Is that bourbon? It's ten in the morning!"

"It helps the digestion," Mrs. Tunt sniffed. "Especially since it is a holiday."

"It's Thanksgiving," Tiffy said. "Not Let's Get Plastered Day. Oh wait, that's pretty much **every day** at this house of horrors!"

"If I was my grandmother I would advise you to watch your tongue girl," Mrs. Tunt sniffed. "Unless you want it to be **cut out!"**

"That reminds me," Cheryl blinked. "When do I get my scissors back?"

Heathcliff staggered into the room with his clothes torn and bloody scratches everywhere. "The ocelot has had its pills," He said calmly. "And pissed on the floor. Sir, if you don't mind I'd like to get some bandages. Just to limit the blood I have to clean up…It is mine after all."

"That can wait," Mr. Tunt waved. "It's time for the traditional unveiling of the Thanksgiving Bird!"

"Of course, sir," Heathcliff stiffly walked over to the side of the room and rang a large bell that was on a table.

"What's all this?" Tiffy asked.

"It's a Tunt family tradition," Mr. Tunt explained. "Before every holiday feast we inspect the bird that is going to be our dinner. To see if it's worthy enough."

"One Fourth of July we saw a couple of cattle before they were slaughtered," Cheryl spoke up.

"Well we were at your Uncle's ranch," Mr. Tunt told her. "Shame it burned down."

"Best fireworks ever," Cheryl grinned.

"Never let my sister **near** fireworks," Cecil whispered to Tiffy. "Or anything with explosives ever! My uncle and a few ranch hands learned that the hard way."

"I gathered that," Tiffy winced.

A couple of well dressed servants wheeled out a cage with a huge white goose inside. "We who are about to fry salute you!" Cheryl mocked.

"Cheryl!" Mrs. Tunt sniffed. "Have some respect. This bird is worthy enough to be our dinner."

"A Tunt Goose is a special goose," Mr. Tunt looked at the honking bird. "Yes, this looks meaty enough. Well done to the breeder. Well done."

"That's how we like it," Cheryl spoke up. "Well done."

"Let me see if I get this straight," Tiffy folded her arms. "You're showing off a living breathing goose just before you sacrifice it for this pretentious holiday based on a treaty the Pilgrims broke with the Native Americans. Not to mention that the main goal of this so-called holiday is to carb load for the massive rush of blatant capitalism that is known as Black Friday."

"You're the one going on and on about civil rights," Mrs. Tunt huffed. "I would think you would be for a holiday celebrated by black people."

"It's not for black people Mother," Cheryl snorted with laughter. "Even **I** know that!"

"Both Thanksgiving and Black Friday are made up holidays whose only goal is to stimulate the economy of the one percent that own everything!" Tiffy snapped.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Mr. Tunt blinked.

"Don't forget football," Cecil added.

"Don't get me started on football!" Tiffy huffed.

"Then **don't** ," Mrs. Tunt glared at her. "No one invited you to this dinner."

"I did," Cecil said.

"No one **important** invited you to this dinner," Cheryl quipped. "Tiffy what are you **doing?"**

"BE FREE!" Tiffy let loose the goose from its cage.

"WHAT DID YOU JUST DO YOU CRAZY GIRL?" Mr. Tunt gasped as the goose flew out of the cage.

"Freeing a helpless animal from oppression!" Tiffy shouted. "Meat is murder!"

"I'll murder **you** if you ruin this holiday!" Mrs. Tunt screamed.

"HONK! HONK!" The goose flew around the room.

"WHO BUYS A GOOSE THAT DOESN'T HAVE ITS WINGS CLIPPED?" Mr. Tunt shouted. "HEATHCLIFF! CATCH THAT BLASTED THING!"

"Yes, sir…" Heathcliff sighed.

The goose pecked at Heathcliff's head as it flew around the room. "OW! OW!" Heathcliff shouted.

Mrs. Tunt turned on Tiffy. "You horrid little **wretch**! You ruined our dinner!"

"Since when is that a problem for **you?"** Tiffy snapped. "You seem to prefer a more liquid diet anyway!"

"WHAT?" Mrs. Tunt snapped.

"HONK! HONK! HONK!"

CRASH!

"Just drink another bottle of scotch," Tiffy snapped as the goose flew around the room, knocking over vases.

"And you think I'm inappropriate," Cheryl looked at her mother.

"Compared to her you're Miss Manners!" Mrs. Tunt snapped. "Cecil this is why I don't want you associating with trash like this!"

"Oh, go drown in a vat of wine!" Tiffy shouted.

"HONK! HONK! HONK!"

CRASH!

"There goes Great Aunt Hortense Tunt's priceless vase," Mr. Tunt sighed. "Leaving Great Aunt Hortense scattered all over the floor!"

CRASH!

"And there goes some more priceless figurines," Mr. Tunt looked at the mess. "When did we get a glass menagerie?"

"Who remembers?" Mrs. Tunt snapped.

"I think it was a gift from Tennessee Williams," Cheryl blinked.

"HONK! HONK! HONK!" The goose settled on top of a huge library bookcase filled with heavy books and other objects.

"Get that bird, Heathcliff!" Mr. Tunt scoffed. "And stop bleeding all over the place! It's unseemly!"

"I am trying sir," Heathcliff struggled to climb the bookcase. "I fear the ocelot may have opened a small artery."

"No excuses man!" Mr. Tunt snapped. "Just do it!"

"Perhaps I should retrieve a ladder and…?" Heathcliff suggested.

"No time!" Mr. Tunt snapped. "Get the damn bird **now!"**

"Yes, sir," Heathcliff sighed as he tried to climb the bookcase.

"Be careful Heathcliff!" Cecil warned. "That bookcase is rather loose!"

"The only thing loose is your girlfriend's morals!" Mrs. Tunt snapped.

"And her bra," Cheryl quipped.

"How can you tell?" Mrs. Tunt asked.

"You know…?" Tiffy glared at them.

"HONK! HONK! HONK!"

CRREEEAAAAK!

"Oh dear…" Heathcliff gulped as the bookcase started to pull away from the wall.

"HONK! HONK!" The goose flew away and managed to push its feet against the edge of the bookcase, causing it to fall.

"AAAAAHHH" Heathcliff screamed as the giant bookcase fell on top of him. He was crushed immediately.

 **CRASH!**

"Oh," Mr. Tunt blinked. "I say that bookcase was loose after all. Huh."

"That's not good," Cecil looked at Heathcliff and felt his arm sticking out from under the rubble. "He's dead."

"Are you sure?" Cheryl asked.

"He has no pulse," Cecil got up. "And I saw parts of his brains leaking out from underneath so yes…"

"Well this is just great," Mrs. Tunt snapped. "Heathcliff is **dead!** Our most faithful and reliable butler this family has ever had is gone! Now who's going to serve our drinks?"

"And there's blood on the carpet!" Mr. Tunt snapped. "You know that's going to be a bitch to clean!"

"Not to mention the tiny bits of brain splatter," Cheryl looked. "He's never looked better."

Mrs. Tunt paused. "Who do we get to remove the body now that the butler is dead?"

"I think that's the under-butler's job," Cheryl spoke up.

"We don't have an under-butler," Mr. Tunt said. "Rupert quit because he couldn't get the time off to visit his dying grandmother this morning."

"And it's Thanksgiving," Tiffy spoke up. "He might have wanted to spend time with **his family?** Just a thought."

"The only family a servant should be concerned with is the one he is **serving!"** Mrs. Tunt glared at Tiffy.

"It is attitudes like **that** …" Tiffy began.

"HONK! HONK!"

"SOMEONE GET THAT DAMN BIRD!" Mr. Tunt shouted as the goose flew out of the room.

"This is all her fault!" Mrs. Tunt pointed at Tiffy. "Thanksgiving is ruined! RUINED!"

"GOOD!" Tiffy snapped.

"Cecil I am **warning** you!" Mrs. Tunt snapped. "If you marry this hippie harlot I **won't** show up to your wedding!"

" **Brilliant idea** Darling!" Mr. Tunt snapped. "Give our son **another reason** to run off with this girl!"

"Well I don't see **you** doing anything!" Mrs. Tunt snapped. "Just letting our son run with this common piece of…"

"He's not our _daughter_ ," Mr. Tunt snapped. "He's a man and he has the right to be with any woman he chooses to be with. No matter how disreputable she is."

"HEY!" Tiffy and Cecil snapped.

"You do remember the reason I decided to marry you was because my mother hated you right?" Mr. Tunt snapped.

"That and the vast fortune your family gained from my dowry," Mrs. Tunt snarled. "And don't you even compare me with this little goose freeing guttersnipe! I was a virgin when you married me!"

"Only technically!" Mr. Tunt snapped.

"It still counts!" Mrs. Tunt yelled. "I have been more than a decent wife and mother to your children and how am I repaid? By being questioned and having my authority undermined!"

"Not to mention Father having several affairs," Cheryl added.

"Cheryl be careful of yourself," Mr. Tunt glared at her. "You might end up accidentally walking into a few doors."

"And you might end up sleeping with the door **locked** between our two rooms!" Mrs. Tunt snapped.

"You know damn well that door hasn't been unlocked from **either** side in **years!** " Mr. Tunt snarled.

"HONK! HONK! HONK!"

"AAAHHH!" A couple of maids screamed as they were chased by an angry goose.

"You know the only reason I don't divorce you is that it's cheaper to wait until you die first," Mr. Tunt glared at his wife.

"Not if **you** die first!" Mrs. Tunt snarled.

"Maybe I'll get lucky and **both** of you will die at the same time?" Cheryl muttered to herself.

"I heard that young lady!" Mr. Tunt snapped.

"Go to your room!" Mrs. Tunt snapped.

"As much as I hate her she's a grown woman," Tiffy defended. "Not much of a woman but still one. She can do whatever she wants."

"Where the hell do people like you pick up that nonsense?" Mr. Tunt was stunned.

"This is what I was talking about!" Mrs. Tunt wailed. "Oh, where have we failed as parents?"

"Start with **Exhibit A** over there!" Tiffy pointed at Cheryl.

"DIE TIFFY!" Cheryl launched herself at Tiffy and they began to fight.

"Cheryl a girl of your station fighting like a common whore is beneath you," Mrs. Tunt sniffed. "That being said…DESTROY THAT LITTLE HIPPIE FREAK!"

"WITH PLEASURE!" Cheryl shouted.

Mr. Tunt looked at his wife. "Really?"

Mrs. Tunt sniffed. "If she's going to brawl she might as well do it in defense of the Tunt name."

"Admittedly that is a good cause," Mr. Tunt agreed. "Defending our good name."

"Our **good name**?" Cecil was stunned. "Father no offense meant, but the Tunt name isn't exactly synonymous with virtue and charity. The **Hearsts, Kennedys** and the **Gettys** look at us and call us greedy immoral drug addicted sex maniacs!"

"Who cares what those losers think?" Mr. Tunt waved. "I'm seriously asking."

"AAAAHHHH!" Tiffy screamed as Cheryl pulled her hair.

"GO CHERYL!" Mrs. Tunt shouted. "YANK THE LIPS OFF THAT TRAMP!"

"There are mobsters that tell their children to not grow up and be like a Tunt!" Cecil told him. "I read it in a newspaper! The saying is Don't Tunt Out!"

"That's a _thing?_ " Mr. Tunt blinked.

"It's totally a thing," Cecil shrugged.

"HONK! HONK! HONK!"

CRASH!

"Tiffy! Stop!" Cecil managed to grab his girlfriend and pull her away.

As he did so Cheryl slapped Tiffy several times. "OW! OW! OW!" Tiffy yelled.

"HONK! HONK!"

CRASH!

"Sir," A female servant ran in. "The goose just broke through a stained-glass window and flew away!"

"Which one?" Mr. Tunt gasped. "Not the picture of Great Grandfather building a railroad!"

"No," The servant shook her head. "The one depicting members of your wife's family."

"WHAT?" Mrs. Tunt screamed.

"Thank God for that," Mr. Tunt groaned.

"However, the goose also destroyed your favorite decanter and defecated all over your favorite chair in the study," The female servant added.

"WHAT?" Mr. Tunt shouted.

"HA! SERVES YOU RIGHT!" Tiffy snapped as she was held back by Cecil.

"GET HER OUT OF HERE!" Mrs. Tunt shouted. "GET THIS PIECE OF TRASH OUT OF MY HOME!"

"YOU HAVE **RUINED** THANKSGIVING CECIL!" Mr. Tunt shouted. "RUINED IT!"

"BIG SURPRISE!" Cheryl snapped. "He always ruins family occasions! Haven't I said that Mother?"

"You certainly have," Mrs. Tunt shouted. "Get her out of here!"

"GLADLY!" Tiffy snapped as Cecil dragged her away. "Who'd want to spend any holiday with the Addams Family here?"

"WE'RE THE TUNTS!" Mr. Tunt shouted. "Why do people who visit our house keep **calling** us that?"

"It references a television show," Cheryl explained.

"A what now?" Mrs. Tunt blinked.

"Not important," Cheryl waved. "GET HER OUT OF HERE CECIL! GET HER OUT!" She picked up a stray book and threw it at Tiffy.

"OW!" Tiffy shouted as the book hit her. "I HOPE YOU ALL DIE IN A HORRIBLE ACCIDENT! YOU RICH BITCHES HAVE A RECKONING COMING! AND YOU'RE ALL DOOMED! DOOMED!"

"Well we are Tunts," Mr. Tunt sniffed. "Odds are you're right. GET HER OUT OF HERE CECIL!"

"Happy Thanksgiving," Cecil gulped as he guided Tiffy out.

"YEAH! HAPPY THANKSGIVING ASSHOLES!" Tiffy shouted as they left the room.

"Tiffy! Wait! Wait! Wait! Don't!" Cecil protested.

SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!

"There goes the stained-glass picture of grandfather," Cecil was heard sighing.

"Well that just puts the jelly on the jam bread!" Mr. Tunt snapped. "Thanksgiving is **ruined!** Ruined I say!"

"I've always said Tiffy was mentally unstable," Cheryl sniffed. "She's just not right in the head."

"She's not," Mrs. Tunt sniffed. "Oh, Cheryl did that awful, awful girl hurt you?"

"Unfortunately, no," Cheryl sighed. "She can't even hit right."

"It's scandalous," Mrs. Tunt took a drink. "Just scandalous! Just…I have a feather in my drink! Oh, will it never end!"

"Ruined! Our holiday feast is **ruined!** " Mr. Tunt snapped.

"Without the goose our holiday meal is **ruined!** " Mrs. Tunt sighed. "All we have are six game hens, two ducks, a pheasant, sixteen lobsters, a pot full of cracked crab, some steak tartare, caviar, some rare cheese and crackers, clams casino, squash casserole, two green bean casseroles prepared two different ways, sweet potatoes casserole, roasted quail eggs, a basket of cornbread and other pastries, seven pies and a three-layered cake."

"Actually, Ma'am…" The servant paused. "Ms. Tiffy threw the cake through the stained-glass window…As well as a small chair…"

"GOD DAMN IT ALL TO HELL!" Mr. Tunt shouted. The servant ran in fear. "This holiday is ruined! **Ruined** I say!"

"You know some people have turkey for Thanksgiving," Cheryl spoke up.

"Turkey?" Mrs. Tunt was shocked. "For _Thanksgiving?"_

"What will they think of next?" Mr. Tunt sniffed. "Where did you learn **that** Cheryl?"

"My friend Pam told me her family has turkey for Thanksgiving every year," Cheryl said.

"Is that the black woman that works in your office?" Mrs. Tunt asked.

"No," Cheryl said. "That's Lana. Pam is the fat human resources director from Wisconsin."

"Oh **Wisconsin** ," Mr. Tunt nodded. "All the way out in the sticks. Never been out there myself. But I have heard of the place."

"That's a state isn't it?" Mrs. Tunt asked.

"Yes, Mother," Cheryl sat down and took a drink. "Huh, I think the drink tastes better with feathers."

Mr. Tunt sniffed. "I suppose when you're out west you have to make do with what you have. That makes sense. But here in New York we have goose! Everyone knows that!"

"I heard the Roosevelts have turkey for dinner," Cheryl smirked as she took a drink.

"Well those people are freaks!" Mr. Tunt sniffed. "Freaks!"

They all went to the window and Mr. Tunt opened it. "FREAKS! FREAKS!" They all shouted. "YOU ROOSEVELTS ARE **FREAKS**!"


End file.
